The worst advice I ever received from a therapist was to take a long hot bath. I never went back.
Having a child diagnosed as autistic was stressful and difficult at first. I was in so deep trying to get them help. I ended up almost destroying myself. It felt almost selfish, taking time out to address my trivial problems when my child was self-harming and suicidal. In hind sight I needed help, turns out a long hot bath with candles wasn’t quite the help I needed.
I started seeing a therapist. I was a wreck. Stressed to the absolute max, crying all the time, binge eating and I just felt like a constant failure. There were days I didn’t shower and days I forgot to eat.
The advice I got was not well received.
My 30 something childless therapist suggested I run a long hot bath and take some time “just for me”. Time to myself was a great idea, God knows I needed it. But, as any parent of a special needs child will tell you, a bath is not practical. I mean there are days I can’t even go to the toilet by myself. How will I manage this mystical bath fantasy? And the candles, can’t forget the candles.
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The fantasy.
Just for fun let’s imagine this advice I received and this bath. While I am soaking, enjoying this time alone, the dishes are still waiting for me, in fact there will be more once I emerge. My 3 kids will come looking for me. It is like they can smell the sense of calmness and relaxation. It is a gift all kids are born with. I did try a bath once, I ended up spending 2 hours watching the kids play in the water (they joined me) then another hour cleaning up after them. If you do decide not to let them in then are you prepared the tears, the screaming the guilt trip?
Any time I have tried to master the me time I have end up feeling like Bruce Willis at the end of any of the Die-hard movies. I’m bloodied, exhausted and I just need a shirt that isn’t ripped or reeks of spew. The “me time” is a fantasy and we need to let it go.
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What I really, really want.
Instead, what I want is someone to do the thinking for me. OMG can you imagine? If for once I did not have to think about what to do for dinner. Even better, imagine if someone put the laundry on and then hung it up without me asking. Or imagine if someone said I will clean up after dinner, you sit and watch tv. OMG I can’t even deal, this sounds like some kind of fantasy Island episode. The plane the plane, where is the frigg’n plane?
The thinking is by far the most exhausting part of parenting. The constant worry and stress. Simple tasks seem liked a strategic military mission. Ensuring everyone’s needs were met, except of course your own. There have been many a day that I have prepared three different meals but still forgot to cook myself something. Instead eating let overs off 3 different plates.
Or, I have done the laundry to ensure everyone’s favourite clothing is clean and ready, while forgetting to wash underwear for myself. I’ve ended up raiding my husband’s underwear draw just for something to cover my poor hooch.
We put ourselves last and perhaps this “me time” is a fantasy. Or, perhaps it just finding someone to think for us every now and then.
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